Auld Lang Syne
by SandraTx
Summary: Dick takes care of some old business. Sequel to SKH's "Best Girl, First Girl, Only Girl"
1. Auld Lang Syne

Disclaimer: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, and Bruce Wayne belong to DC, not me.

Rating: R (adult situations)

  


Synopsis: This is a present-day sequel to SKH's "Best Girl, First Girl, Only Girl" done with her permission.

Feedback: Any shape, manner, or form is fine.

  


Please do not archive without permission.

  


Acknowledgments: Obviously this story could not exist without the excellent work of SKH's "Best Girl." Thank you so much, Sarah, for allowing me to play in your yard. Thanks also to Smitty for being a sounding board, and the Supreme Court of Bludhaven (i.e. Charlene) for legal advice. Special, special thanks go to supreme beta-reader and Location Girl, Chicago. 

  


Author's note: As of this time, "Best Girl" isn't archived anywhere except on the Nightwing mailing list, but I think you can still understand this story without having read the earlier one.

  


This story is dedicated to my very good friend, Pam. Happy belated birthday!

  


***** Part 1 *****

_Very early Thursday morning_

  


_Bing bong_

"Babs! Does your computer _have_ to let you know you've got mail _in the bedroom_?!?" Dick Grayson asked plaintively. He managed to hold Barbara still as she tried to get out from under him.

"Dick! Let me up -- I need to get that! It could be important!"

Recognizing an obsessive personality when he saw one, Dick abandoned trying to persuade Barbara Gordon with words and went back to his earlier occupation of kissing her breathless. When they finally came up for air, he gave her his best smile. She melted.

"I guess...if it were really urgent they would have called me ..."

Dick refused to allow himself to gloat over his victory; instead he devoted himself to making sure she didn't regret her choice.

  


****

As Dick watched Barbara retrieve her email, he was surprised to see her normal look of concentration turn to a look of disgust. "What'cha got, Babs? Someone sending you dirty jokes or something?" He walked over to see what she was looking at. He was even more surprised and a little hurt when she immediately shut down the program.

"Aren't you on-duty soon or something, Grayson?"

"Not until later. What's wrong, Babs?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"Uh huh. What was in the email, Babs?"

She glared at him, but wearily realized he wasn't going to leave until she told him. She motioned for him to sit down next to her.

"A few days ago, Bruce called to ask me a favor. One of his business friends, Harrison Palmer, had come to him because his electronics company was in severe money straits. Palmer told Bruce that the company was sound, but that some failed research projects had drained money faster than they had anticipated. He asked Bruce if he would consider investing in the company to give them the cash they needed to regain their footing. Bruce said he would look into it and get back to him. That's where I come in."

"I would've thought Lucius would research something like that?"

"That's what I said, but Bruce thought it was odd that a normally profitable company would suddenly experience a reversal like that, so he wanted me to investigate it. After doing some digging, I began to agree with Bruce. It turns out most of the money hemorrhaging is coming from their Chicago branch, specifically from the research department being run by one Gary Thompson. He buried the losses in several accounting hidey-holes, but they all point toward him. What I couldn't figure out was why?"

"It's not just greed?"

"This guy married into one of the wealthiest families in Chicago; his net worth is in the millions of dollars. He's a major stockholder in the company. Why would he steal from himself?" Babs began fiddling with her pencil. "So I had some of my people do a little local digging." Her mouth twisted slightly in an expression of distaste, "It turns out _Mrs._ Thompson controls the purse strings in the family, and she's the jealous sort."

"An affair?"

"You got it. I did some more checking, and Thompson has been pulling out about $400,000 per month. It doesn't go into his wife's account or any other account I could track down for him. So I had him followed and discovered who he was meeting up with." Barbara reopened her email and showed Dick the picture that her operative had transmitted. She waited for Dick's reaction.

"Hmm. She looks kinda familiar. Oh, I remember -- that's Jennifer Hill, the Mayor's former wife!" He beamed at Barbara with the triumph of a schoolboy answering a difficult question.

"Right."

"So ...?"

"So?"

"So what's got you so upset?"

Barbara just stared at Dick in astonishment. He stared back at her, clearly puzzled.

"Dick, that's _Jennifer Hill_!"

"Yeah I know. We've established that. She's blackmailing Thompson." Then it seemed to hit him, "Oh! You're going to have to let Bruce know about this aren't you? Oh man," his voice trailed off as he started thinking hard about the whole situation. "Listen, don't tell Bruce anything about her yet. Maybe if we work it right, we can get her out of the picture without his having to know." He sat deep in thought, working out a possible plan, when it occcurred to him that Barbara hadn't responded to his last statement. "Babs?"

She just stared at him in shock. After a few more seconds she found her voice. "That's the woman who practically forced herself on you when you were only sixteen years old and who accused you of being in a...a sexual relationship with Bruce, and all you can say is, 'don't tell Bruce'?!?"

"Well, Bruce was pretty upset by the whole thing, and I don't want to have him reminded of it."

"But what about you? Aren't you upset?"

"By Jennifer Hill? You've got to be kidding, Babs! Why would I be upset about that?"

"Dick, this is me you're talking to! I was _there_ remember? I remember how upset you were, and I can't believe it doesn't still bother you!"

"Ahhh!" he replied in a tone of dawning comprehension. "You were trying to protect _me_!" He leaned over and planted a kiss on her nose. "I appreciate your concern, sweetheart, but it's really not necessary." He put a finger against her mouth when she would have protested. "I'm serious, Babs. Jennifer Hill was neither the first, nor the worst experience of...that sort I went through growing up." 

"But why were you so upset? You can't sit there and tell me you weren't, Grayson!"

"Oh I _was_ upset, Babs. If you'll recall though, I was mainly worried what Bruce would think of everything. I was afraid he'd be upset with me for handling the situation badly. As far as Jen Hill was concerned, I was just embarrassed that she caught me, and then embarrassed that _you_ had to rescue me."

Babs suddenly paled as she remembered his earlier comment. "You mean there were _worse_ things that happened to you? What happened? Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Dick's expression became exasperated. "I didn't say anything because I handled it, Babs! As I told Bruce, it would be pretty pathetic of me to have to run to him every time someone looked at me cross-eyed. I handled it; I survived it; it's over and done with. And as far as what happened," his voice trailed off as the memories caused his expression to harden and his eyes to turn cold, "let's just say it was unpleasant, and leave it at that."

  



	2. Auld Lang Syne

Dick pasted a smile on his face that became real as he saw Barbara's concern for him. "That's all in the past, sweetheart. What we need to do now is find out what Jen Hill's really up to these days."

"Isn't blackmail enough?" Barbara was still trying to throw off the effects of all that Dick had told her.

"Maybe so, but it just feels...wrong to me. Look, if she was just after money, why didn't she stay with Thompson?"

"Maybe he dropped her. So, she'd want to get even."

"Okay, so she threatens to tell his wife. At that point, it becomes a question of her word against his. If that's all it was, I'd think Thompson would have a good shot at smoothing things over with his wife. That leads me to believe that's she's got more than just her word. And since our Mr. Thompson has _so_ much to lose, I would guess he's pretty careful to make it difficult for someone to catch him."

"So she had to have proof. So?"

"Babs, did Jennifer Hill strike you as someone who was smart enough and _resourceful_ enough to engineer a blackmail scheme?" He grinned wider at Barbara's look of comprehension.

"You're right! It's one thing to entice Ham Hill into marrying her. I would think she would have to have help to pull something like this off."

"You got it. Now who benefits if Palmer's company goes under?"

"Corporate sabotage would make sense," Babs agreed absently as her brain finally stopped trying to figure out what could've been "worse" for Dick and focused on the problem at hand. "It would explain why the amounts were large enough to be noticed and put the company at risk -- why else would Jennifer want to ruin her source of income. I'll look into it."

"Great. I'm on duty tonight, but tomorrow, I'm going to head over to Chicago."

"Chicago!" Babs squeaked.

"Yeah. I'll talk to Thompson first -- I want to be sure we really are talking about blackmail here. Then, I'll...talk...to Ms. Hill."

"Dick, ..." Babs didn't trust that twinkle in his eyes.

"I'll find out where she's got the blackmail materials stashed, while you drain her bank account." When Babs just stared at him, he continued, "Trust me, Babs; she won't recognize me."

"How do you figure that?"

"First, I'll be against a different background -- why would she be expecting to see Dick Grayson in Chicago? Second, it's been a long time, and she only saw me twice. Third," he then winked at her, "believe me, she wasn't staring at my _face_ all that much!" He laughed at her blush as she remembered what Jen Hill _had_ been staring at. 

Barbara laughed along with him, but stopped as an idea occurred to her. "It's kinda weird, really."

"What?"

"We're going after Jennifer Hill for blackmail -- maybe she got the idea from Bruce?" She snickered at the stunned look that crossed Dick's face.

"How...did you know about that part? I know _I_ never told you!"

"My dad. He was pretty impressed with 'playboy Bruce' that night. I think that was the first time he saw beneath the facade, but he thought he was only seeing a cutthroat businessman."

"Yeah, Bruce was pretty...atypical...that night." Dick leaned over and gave Babs a long, slow, deep kiss. Then he pulled back. "I've got to head out -- there's some stuff I need to set up before I go on duty -- but I'll probably stop by later this evening. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed huskily.

  


****

On his way back to Bludhaven, Dick stopped by the Wayne Enterprises hangar at Gotham's municipal airport. The hangar housed both Bruce Wayne's private and corporate planes. Once inside, he saw the empty office, made a bet with himself, and walked over to Wayne Enterprises' newest (and fastest) acquisition, a Cessna Citation X. Sure enough, the engine canopy was open, and Dick could see the lower half of his target: WE's flight engineer/pilot, Terry Perkins.

"Hi, Terry!" he called out. 

Dick heard a clang, then some muttered cursing, but finally someone emerged from underneath the jet. He was a slightly stocky man of medium-height with sandy-blond hair now going gray. Terry Perkins had been a Naval aviator of some distinction until an equipment malfunction led to the crash of his F-14 on a nighttime carrier landing in the Persian Gulf. He had been lucky to escape with his life, but the crash blew out his right knee. After he left the Navy and suffered through months of reconstructive surgery and rehabilitation, he had been encouraged by an old Special Forces friend, Chuck LaGrange, to seek employment with Bruce Wayne. Flying LearJets wasn't quite the same adrenaline rush as landing a Tomcat on a carrier deck in the middle of the ocean, but it was still flying. And when you threw in Bruce Wayne's personal collection of vintage aircraft -- it was an interesting job, at least.

"Hi, Dick! What can I do for you?" Terry walked over to his boss' "son," wiping his hands on a rag. Terry liked Dick Grayson. The kid might've been raised by one of the wealthiest men in the United States, but he had a good head on his shoulders. He was a natural pilot, and he knew how to treat a good piece of machinery.

"I'm planning on flying over to Chicago tomorrow on an errand for Bruce. Is the Mustang available?" Dick asked, keeping his fingers crossed. The old P-51D Mustang was his favorite plane among Bruce's collection. Not coincidentally, it was also the fastest except for the jet planes. Dick liked the jets, but there was just _something_ about flying the old Mustang that drew him back time after time.

Terry smiled. "You bet, kid. I had her up just the other day, but she could certainly go with a longer trip. You want me to pre-flight her?"

"Yeah, thanks! Could you have her ready around 7:00 am?"

"0700 -- you got it, kid." After shaking Dick's hand, Terry went back to getting acquainted with his new charge, the Cessna Citation.

Dick got on his motorcycle and headed back to Bludhaven.

  


****

Barbara sat in front of her monitor, absently chewing on the end of a pencil. Finding Jennifer Hill's co-conspirator had been trickier than she had expected. Palmer Technologies had quite a few close competitors; it had taken her a while to narrow them down to those with the traditional means, motive, and opportunity. Finally, she had stumbled upon a chance connection: Jennifer Hill and Sarah Montgomery were members of the same gym, or rather, "exercise spa"; Sarah Montgomery was the CFO of Hart Electronics, which was competing with Palmer on various government contracts. Based on the fees the "exercise spa" charged, the barbells must be plated in 24-karat gold, Babs thought in disgust.

It seemed like a simple coincidence -- until Barbara remembered that Sarah Montgomery lived in Manhattan. Why would someone from New York maintain a ritzy gym membership in Chicago? Further digging revealed that Sarah's locker was right next to Jennifer's. Hmmm. 

It took a little more (illegal) digging, but by the time Dick called her to let her know he was coming by, Barbara thought she had Jennifer Hill's silent partner pegged.

"I've said it before, but you're a wonder, Babs! I'll be there shortly -- I've got something to show you." 

He wouldn't tell her anything more about it, and she practically went cross-eyed trying to spot him on her security monitors without success. Thus, she was completely surprised when her front doorbell rang. She checked her monitors, but all she could see was her stuffed Nightwing doll that had mysteriously turned up missing after Dick had left that morning.

"Hi, it's me!" Dick called through his communicator. "Before you answer the door, I want you to pretend your car has just had a flat tire, and you've been unable to call anyone to come fix it. Okay?"

"Okay..." she replied, mystified.

"Okay, I've just pulled up behind you on my motorcycle. Now open the door and tell me what you think."

Barbara opened the door, still mystified, and then sat frozen in shock. She felt her mouth drop open, but she somehow couldn't convince her jaw to resume its normal function.

Yes, that was Dick Grayson in front of her. She vaguely noted that he was wearing some rather tight black jeans, a bright blue tank top, and his favorite leather motorcycle jacket. She had thought that after having known him (and _known_ him) for so many years that she had built up some resistance to his appearance. So much for _that_ theory. She had always been drawn by his natural charisma -- the magnetism that helped him be the natural leader that he was. Now, she felt as though the whole force of his personality was focused on _her_, and on attracting her. It was as if she had been expecting candlelight but had been confronted with a searchlight instead.

Finally though, her brain began to function again and successfully communicated to her jaw to close itself and resume forming words. "D..Dick! Um...come on in." She turned away from him as he walked in her doorway.

"You okay?"

Babs turned her head to look back at him. He was back to "normal" -- still devastatingly handsome, of course, but with a gentle smile on his face for her. Embarrassed, she nodded her head and turned back to concentrate on the suddenly difficult task of negotiating her chair through her kitchen. She stopped, though, at a featherlight touch on her shoulder. Dick moved to stand in front of her, bent down, and with the same gentle touch, raised her face to his. His kiss was tender and soothing, yet still with the spark that had always been between them.

"I'll try again. Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"Um...yeah. You just...startled me."

"I noticed. Do you think this will be enough to attract Jen's 'attention?'"

Barbara stared at him in amusement that turned to shock as she realized that he was serious. Dick wasn't stupid -- he knew that women found him very attractive -- but obviously he was still completely unaware of just how powerful that attraction was. "Yeah, I think she'll notice you."

  



	3. Auld Lang Syne

Sitting next to Barbara on her couch, Dick ran his fingers through her hair, stroking her scalp until he came to her neck. Frowning slightly at the tension he felt there, he turned her away from him so that he could massage her neck and shoulders.

"So what's bothering you?"

"Hmm?" Maintaining coherent thought was _so_ difficult when he did that.

"You've been acting funny all evening, and your neck's as stiff as a board." He paused, trying to think of the best way to word his next sentence. Barbara could be very prickly toward offers of help. "Is there anything I can do?"

Her momentary feeling of contentment vanished. "Don't go to Chicago."

"What do you need me to do instead?" he asked, surprised. 

"Nothing. I just...don't want you involved in this case."

"Babs!?!" Dick spun her around to look at her face.

"I'm sorry, but I worry that you are doing this for all the wrong reasons, and she's just going to hurt you again, and ..." She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as a firm kiss silenced her objections.

"Sweetheart, I keep telling you, what Jen Hill did was not that big a deal to me." He sighed in exasperation at her mulish look of disbelief. "Look, when I think of my sixteenth birthday, you know what I remember? I remember this," he motioned to the Greek cross necklace he had decided to wear with the tank top, "and _this_," he kissed her gently, exploringly, much as he had when they first kissed. Her mouth opened against his, and she pulled herself closer to him, even as his arms tightened around her. Finally, Dick remembered that he had been in the middle of a sentence and drew back slightly. "... and you told me you loved me. Compared to all that, Jennifer Hill was just a minor annoyance."

Dick felt the tension leave her body as she finally believed him. Grinning at her, he suddenly shifted his hands and started tickling her. Giggling, she began tickling him back in retaliation. Dick obviously possessed the advantage in physical strength, but Barbara was sneakier and had fewer scruples. Eventually, they ended up, as they always did after a tickling match, in a lump of tangled limbs on her living room floor, still snickering from time to time as they tried to catch their breaths. And, as always, once they caught their breaths, the intimacy of their position made them forget about breathing again.

Dick brushed a lock of hair away from Barbara's face and looked deep into her eyes. "It's kinda funny. I think back on that night and how much I loved you then. I knew I could never love anyone as much as I loved you. But when I think about how much I love you _now_, it doesn't even compare." He bent down and kissed her, a kiss that began tenderly but soon heated up. Dick rolled over, got to his feet, and scooped Babs up into his arms. Still kissing, he carried her into her bedroom where her big bed awaited them.

  


****

"So how are you going to handle being off work?" Babs asked, her head resting on Dick's shoulder while his arms were wrapped securely around her. She was so relaxed, she just wanted to drift off to sleep, but she still had a couple of questions.

"Amy needs to be out of town today and tomorrow for a wedding." He smiled slightly as Babs tensed up a bit at the mention of his partner's name. She had reacted this way ever since she found out he'd been partnered with a female officer -- an _attractive_ female officer. "She didn't want her 'rookie wandering around the station like a lost lamb,' so I was instructed to take the extra day off as well. The timing worked out great." 

"Oh."

"I keep telling you sweetheart, her hair's the wrong color," he gently teased her. 

"But what if she dyed her hair?" Babs asked, not entirely in jest.

"Then her eyes would still be the wrong color. I'm only interested in gorgeous redheads with emerald-green eyes. Which are getting greener every minute, I must confess." He continued on before she could ask again. "I'm also only attracted to strong women who refuse to give up under adversity; who still think the good fight is worth fighting; who can make computers sit up and beg; and who can bake a mean batch of bread." He kissed her forehead and then her nose, before continuing, "You're the only one I know who fits that description." He cupped her face in his hand as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. "You're the only one who ever will," he whispered as their lips met.

When the kiss ended, Babs snuggled back into Dick's shoulder. She became so quiet, he thought she had drifted off to sleep until he heard her ask in a small voice, "Have you ever forgiven me for breaking things off between us back then?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Babs," he replied softly.

"But I hurt you Dick!" she exclaimed. "I remember how much _I_ hurt," she continued in a calmer tone.

"I know that, honey, but I also know why you did it -- Bruce made you," he said matter-of-factly.

"You know?!? But how? I didn't want you to find out -- things were already so strained between the two of you; I didn't want to make matters worse."

"I _didn't_ know -- at first, anyway. At first, I was so miserable, I couldn't think straight. Finally, I decided to try to figure out what could've gone wrong, what happened to make you turn away from me."

"But I told you ..."

"I'm sorry Babs, but you always were a bad liar -- around me, anyway. Once I started thinking about it, I realized you were lying. That's when I figured out something must have happened, and the logical conclusion was that Bruce had found out and put pressure on you to end it."

"Logical?"

"Sure. If your dad had found out, you would've told me. In fact, if _anyone_ else had found out, you would've told me. Who else would have the leverage to make you stop seeing me, but whom you wouldn't want me to get upset at? It had to be Bruce. And then, I realized it was my own fault -- that _I_ had given us away."

"You did? He never told me; I just chalked it up to 'Batman knows everything.'"

"Well, in this case, Batman didn't know _squat_ until we went up against that biker gang when you were home on break. Remember, when you got stabbed?"

"Yeah. You weren't too happy with me, as I recall."

"I was so proud of myself for not panicking when I saw you go down. I even managed to wait until Batman gave the okay before I ran over to you. But when I saw that stab wound, all I could think about was seeing how bad it was and getting it bandaged as quickly as possible, so I undid your top to check it out." He smiled ruefully.

"So what?"

"Sweetheart, I didn't think to realize how...odd it would appear to Bruce that I knew just where the invisible zippers were on your costume and that I could get your top off so quickly." His smile grew wider at her look of comprehension. "Not only that, but I was essentially unflustered by stripping a woman half-naked and bending over her chest to investigate a stab wound. A woman I'd had a 'crush' on for years. Not your typical teenaged male behavior, even for a student of the Bat."

"So that made him suspicious. And once he became suspicious ..."

"Right. But once I realized that, I also realized that I wouldn't have done anything differently even if I had known. Because I also remember Dr. Leslie telling me how close you came to dying -- that if I _hadn't_ gotten that pressure bandage on you immediately, you could have bled to death. All-in-all, I figured it was a pretty good trade."

"So you forgive me?" she asked again, this time with a smile.

"If you'll forgive me for giving us away?" He smiled back at her.

"Convince me," she whispered, as she ran her hands over his chest.

  



	4. Auld Lang Syne

_Friday morning_

  


Terry Perkins looked up from his newspaper at the sound of the approaching vehicle. He grimaced as he got to his feet. The mornings were always the worst on his knee -- it always "woke up" a few hours after the rest of him. Limping slightly, he walked over to the hangar entrance to see a large green Hummer pulling up. He smiled in recognition as Dick Grayson jumped down from the passenger side.

The smile turned into a grin as he saw Dick go around the vehicle and plant a passionate kiss on the driver of said vehicle -- a kiss that was being returned with interest. Terry walked closer to the Hummer.

"Hey, Grayson! Get a room, why dont'cha!"

Dick turned to him with a mock scowl on his face, but he couldn't hold it. Smiling, he motioned for Terry to join him. He then turned to the woman in the car.

"Babs, I don't think you two have ever met. This is Terry Perkins. He's Bruce's plane guru. Ter, this is Barbara Gordon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gordon," he replied, shaking the hand that Barbara offered him.

"Likewise, Terry. And please, call me Barbara."

Dick pulled his suit bag and overnight kit from the back seat. "I assume the Mustang's ready?"

"Yep."

"Great. Babs, I'll call you as soon as I get in to Chicago. 'Kay?"

"All right. Be careful!"

"Always." He smirked and headed over to the plane waiting in front of the hangar.

Terry heard Barbara mutter, "Yeah, right," under her breath, and smiled at her. "Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee while we wait for Dick to take off?"

"Well, I really ought to be going ..." 

Terry could tell that she really wanted to stay, but that she needed an excuse. Purposefully falling back into the speech patterns of his east-Texas childhood, he drawled, "Miss Barbara, I make an outstanding cup of coffee, if I do say so myself, and I would purely enjoy the chance to share it with a pretty lady like yourself."

Barbara smiled at him in surrender. Activating her chair lift, she left the Hummer and followed Terry into the hangar. Terry got her the promised cup of coffee, refilled his own, and sat back down at the table in such a way that Barbara could position her chair across from him and still see Dick completing his preflight inspection of the old warbird.

"Umm...Terry? Exactly how old is that plane Dick's going to fly?" Barbara asked worriedly.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No. Knowing Dick, I figured he'd be flying one of the jets."

"That's a P-51D Mustang. It was built in 1944 and actually saw combat time over in Europe. Mr. Wayne insisted on that -- he wanted a 'veteran' plane," Terry replied in the tones of a proud parent.

"So Dick's going to be flying 1400 miles round-trip in a plane almost sixty years old?!?"

"Don't worry, she's a fine plane, Miss Barbara! She always received excellent care while she was in the Army (much as I hate to admit it about Army mechanics), and a collector bought her later on and completely restored her. Those Mustangs were built to be tough planes."

Barbara smiled at his muttered aside about Army mechanics, but he could see she still wasn't convinced.

"Look, he's flown this bird long distances before, he's a good pilot, and it's a good plane. Trust me -- it's not a good career strategy to kill off the boss' son!" That got him a genuine laugh and seemed to clear some of the worry from her eyes.

"Now Miss Barbara, tell me about yourself. Dick has never had pretty young ladies like you drop him off before. Have you known him long?"

Her smile became a grin. "Actually, I used to babysit him."

Terry snickered. "So I guess worrying about him is something of a habit by now."

"You could say that."

Their conversation was interrupted rather forcibly by the sound of the Mustang's powerful engine starting up. Both of them waved their hands in response to Dick's wave of farewell as he taxied toward the runway. They watched in silence as Dick got the plane into the air quickly and efficiently. Less than a minute later, Terry laughed out loud and Barbara almost smiled as Dick put the plane through four successive barrel rolls, and then headed west.

"My daddy always said, 'It ain't work when you're doin' what you were made to do,'" Terry said, half to himself.

"The plane or Dick?"

"Both. That plane was made to fly like a bat out of...well, anyway, and that boy is a natural pilot."

Babs smiled at Terry's abruptly edited description of the plane, but also at his description of Dick. "I often think he was born to be a flier."

"I'll tell you the truth, Miss Barbara, I was a pretty good Naval aviator -- which meant I was better than about 95% of the rest of the pilots out there," he said with a twinkle in his eye to indicate he was kidding (mostly), "but Dick reminds me of a couple of guys I flew with who didn't just wear their planes, they _were_ their planes."

"How do you know? Have you actually flown with Dick?"

"Well, there are a couple of birds here that I really needed a co-pilot for their test flights. Dick volunteered to help me whenever I needed one. We've done quite a bit of flying together in some rather...tense situations. He never lost his cool."

"Well, I've always thought anyone who could perform quadruple somersaults on the trapeze when he was only nine had no nerves to begin with." Barbara smiled as she recalled an earlier conversation she and Dick had had recently. "You might appreciate this: I once asked him if he wouldn't love to be able to fly like Superman. You know what he said?"

Terry shook his head.

"He said it would take all the fun out of it! 'What would be the point in doing a quad or a double-double if you knew you couldn't fall?' The thrill for Dick comes from _defying_ gravity, not eliminating it."

Terry looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, I can see what he means. After the first few times, I bet flying is no more exciting for Superman than walking or jogging is for us."

Barbara stared at him. "It must be some sort of pilot thing -- that's almost word for word what Dick said." She looked at her watch. "Oops! I really _have_ to get going!" She backed away from the table and wheeled out to her car with Terry at her side. "Thanks the coffee, Terry. It was nice meeting you!"

Terry shook her hand again after she was settled back behind the wheel of her Hummer. "Likewise, Miss Barbara. I hope to see you around here again soon."

  


****

The Mustang had made fun -- but fairly quick -- work of the flight to Chicago, and Dick circled into his approach at Chicago's Meigs Field. After a slightly eventful landing (a sudden gust of wind coming off the lake right as he touched down), Dick taxied over to one of the public hangars where he had made arrangements for the Mustang's care, feeding, and security. Once that was taken care of, Dick grabbed a taxi to the Palmer House Hilton. The old but still-elegant hotel had always been a favorite of Alfred's, so Dick and Bruce always stayed there.

When Dick got to his room, the first thing he did was set up his laptop and call Barbara.

"So that antique plane didn't kill you after all?" Barbara greeted her lover with a twinkle and a mock frown.

"It's not an antique, sweetheart, it's a _classic_!"

"It's over fifty years old, Dick. It's an antique."

"I'll be sure to tell Alfred you said so."

"Now, _Alfred's_ a classic. Besides, the British don't think something's an antique until it's at least a couple hundred years old or something."

"See! The plane's a classic."

"But it's an _American_ plane, Clueless Wonder."

"It flew in over 100 missions over Europe. That should count for something."

"Yeah, it means that plane has seen more than the usual wear and tear. To quote Indiana Jones, 'It's not the years, it's the mileage.' Your plane's an antique, Dicky-boy."

Being a true student of the Bat, he knew Barbara Gordon's secret weakness. "Next time I see Harrison Ford, I'll be sure to tell him you think he's an antique," he replied.

"All right, all right! I surrender! It's a classic. Just leave Harrison Ford out of this."

Dick tried not to snicker at her panicked expression, but he finally gave up and burst out laughing. Babs, after an unsuccessful attempt to glare him into being serious, gave it up as a lost cause and laughed along with him.

"Okay, I've got to get changed if I'm going to make my apppointment with Thompson. I'll definitely contact you after our meeting, but call me if anything comes up." Dick paused for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was more serious, "I love you, Barbara."

"I love you too, Dick." Barbara brought her right hand up to her mouth, kissed the first two fingers on it, and placed it on the screen in front of her where his mouth was. Dick responded by doing the same thing on his end. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Dick hung up.

  



	5. Auld Lang Syne

"Thanks for agreeing to see me at such short notice, Mr. Thompson," Dick said as he shook hands with the Palmer executive. Dick wore one of his "bored meeting" suits -- suits Alfred picked out for him to wear to Wayne board meetings -- and he saw Thompson respond to the image he projected of a no-nonsense, take-charge corporate player.

"Mr. Grayson, I knew Palmer had been talking to Wayne Enterprises, but I was rather surprised to be brought into that at this early stage." Thompson was a fit-looking man in his late forties with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a mustache. He wore his designer suit easily, as someone who didn't allow his clothes to dictate to him. He motioned for Dick to take a seat.

Dick knew the seating arrangement was designed to make him feel like a supplicant, but as psychological gambits went, it was small game. 'I've had my mind messed with by experts,' he thought with a inner smirk. He continued to project an attitude of being in charge of the situation. "As you said, Bruce Wayne was approached by Mr. Palmer to consider investing, or rather, rescuing Palmer Electronics. Before he made a decision to spend that kind of money, he felt it was necessary to investigate the company to see if it would be a sound investment. That's why I'm here."

Thompson stiffened slightly. "Well, of course, I will be happy to assist your investigation in any way I can."

Dick gave him a smile with no humor behind it. "Perhaps, you can begin by explaining why you have been embezzling $400,000 per month for the last ten months?" While Thompson just gaped at him like a fish, Dick reached inside his jacket and took out the documents Babs had prepared. He unfolded them and laid them in front of Thompson.

"These papers make the trail pretty clear -- you took the money out and attempted to hide your actions."

"This must be some kind of joke! I don't know what you're talking about!" Thompson blustered. "I _own_ part of this company -- why would I steal from myself?!?"

Dick remained calm. "As I said, sir, we have documents that _show_ you took the money."

"Then I'm being framed! You think you can just waltz in here and accuse me like this? Just because you work for a rich know-nothing pretty-boy ..." His sputters cut off abruptly as Dick stood up and leaned over the desk, placing his palms flat on the surface.

"Sir," Dick still did not raise his voice, but there was a steely undercurrent in his words. "We traced the money, Mr. Thompson. As you can see from these papers, we have evidence that you and you alone were responsible for the withdrawal of this money. There is a clear path from the phony disbursement checks to cash withdrawals that you made. I can even show you copies of the bank surveillance tapes."

Thompson fell back against his chair in defeat. He wiped his hands over his face and through his hair as if he could wipe the whole incident away. Dick sat back down in his chair and managed not to start when Thompson suddenly slammed his fist down on the desk.

"It's all _her_ fault!" Thompson burst out.

"Whose fault?"

"Jennifer Hill's! That lying, conniving, ..." Thompson continued on in terms of ever-increasing vitriol, until Dick finally raised his hand to stop him.

"Who is this 'Jennifer Hill?'" he asked in seeming ignorance.

"I met her about a year ago," Thompson replied abruptly, still seething. "We had an affair. From the beginning, I told her that's all it could be; I wouldn't leave my wife. After we'd been together about a month, she told me her birthday was coming up, and she wanted a special present -- $400,000. When I told her that was impossible, she explained that if she didn't get the money, she would go to my wife with proof of our affair."

He sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair dejectedly. "Marsha is a good woman, and I never wanted to hurt her, but a man has needs...no, I'll be honest: sometimes I just wanted something a little more...exciting, and an affair provided that excitement." He gave a heavy sigh and then continued, "At first, I thought Jen was bluffing. I mean, I'm not stupid; this certainly wasn't my first affair -- I had always been careful not to give anyone any kind of evidence they could give to Marsha. That's when Jen showed me the photos and the video tapes."

"She had tapes?"

"I had always had Jen set up our hotel rooms -- that way my name was never on the ledger -- but she must have used it as an opportunity to set up video cameras. She played the tapes for me. There is no way I could finesse my way out of that."

"So what happened next?"

"I managed to get her the $400,000 without Marsha's finding out. Then Jen dropped her next bombshell -- that was just the first payment. I was to give her $400,00 each and every month, and _that's_ when she told me how I was to take the money out of my R&D budget. She had it all laid out; each step I needed to take to get her the money. She said as long as I followed her instructions and kept my head down, no one would ever find out about it." He laughed in disgust at himself.

"But I think I knew, deep down, that the company couldn't afford to lose $400,000 every month without any repercussions. When I heard that Wayne had been approached to bail us out, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It looked like I had a little more time to figure out what I was going to do when the money ran out, but I was still no closer to answering that than I was six months ago."

He looked up at Dick and asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, "So tell me, Grayson, are you going kill my marriage, my career, or both?"

"To be honest, sir, you've done that all by yourself," Dick replied solemnly.

Thompson nodded. "You're right. It's not fair to blame you -- I did it all myself. If I hadn't gotten involved with Jennifer...even the...embezzling. If I had just told her 'No!' I would have only had to face Marsha. But now...what do I do now?" he pleaded.

"Mr. Thompson, I'll be honest with you," Dick said seriously. "I'm inclined to believe your story, but I'm still going to have to check it out. What happens to you after that, I don't know, since I work for Wayne Enterprises, not Palmer Electronics. Let me do some investigating. What can you tell me about this...Jennifer Hill?"

"You're not going to ask her about me are you?!?"

"Now that would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it? Just stay calm and let me do my job."

Thompson told Dick what he knew about Jennifer Hill. As Dick stood to leave, he shook Thompson's hand once again. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Thompson."

  


****

"So what did you think of him?" Dick held his cell phone to his ear to cover his actions as he spoke to Barbara through his throat mike. He was seated on an el train on his way back to the hotel. 

"I believed him," Barbara's voice replied. "The sound quality wasn't great, but I didn't detect any stress triggers that would've indicated that he was lying to you."

"Hey, if you want to complain about the sound quality, talk to Harold -- he made those things! Bugs generally _have_ to be planted in out-of-the-way places. I thought I did a pretty good job, actually."

"Where'd you put it?"

"Under the ledge of his desk as I shook his hand. It was the best place I could see. I'm glad I remembered not to bring my briefcase."

"Anyway, I think he was telling the truth. Poor guy. So what's the plan, now?"

"I want you to keep an ear on him, just to be sure he doesn't spill the beans to anyone or do something drastic. I'm on my way back to the hotel, and then I'm going to check out Ms. Hill's address."

"All right. Give me a call later?"

"You bet, sweetheart. 'Bye." Dick "hung up" his cell phone just as the train stopped at his station. Getting off, he followed the rest of the crowd down the steps and out onto the street.

Once he got back to the hotel, he quickly changed clothes again and called down to the front desk to see if they had successfully completed his earlier request. Upon finding out they had, he went downstairs again, and was greeted by the concierge at the main entrance.

"Here you go, Mr. Grayson! This is your key, and the helmet is on the motorcycle."

"Thanks, uh, Andrew!" Dick replied, reading the man's nameplate. "Did you have any trouble with the rental papers?"

"No sir. The information you gave us was all they needed. Have a nice time, sir!"

"Thanks!"

Dick walked out the front entrance and smiled as he saw his objective: a bright, shiny, black Harley-Davidson Dyna Glide, complete with touring package. He walked around the motorcycle, checking to make sure everything was just as it should be. Putting on his helmet, he turned the key and started up the engine, smiling again as he listened to the powerful roar of a well-tuned engine. He waved to the friendly Andrew and drove off.

  


****

Dick smiled to himself as he motored along Lake Shore Drive and through the tony Lincoln Park neighborhood. Barbara's information had (as usual) been right on the money -- Jennifer Hill always visited her gym on Friday afternoons. It had been a fairly simple procedure to locate her car in the gym's parking garage and plant a tracking signal and a small explosive squib on her back tire. He had taken advantage of the lull to pick up some lunch at a small sidewalk cafe, and he was now just enjoying the nice spring weather while he waited for Hill to leave.

Finally, he saw the little blip that represented Jen Hill's car begin to move. It only took him a few minutes to catch up to her; she seemed to be heading downtown. He waited until she was on a fairly clear stretch of road. As she was braking to stop at a light, he detonated the squib. He saw her control of the car falter for a moment, but she was able to pull the car into the bus lane and stop. Dick immediately began jamming any cell phone calls she might have attempted and pulled his motorcycle in behind her.

  



	6. Auld Lang Syne

Jennifer Hill couldn't believe it. She'd just bought these tires a month ago! And what good was that fancy roadside assistance package doing her, if she couldn't reach them! Disgusted, she got out of her car and went back to inspect the damage. She hadn't changed one of her own tires since she left Nebraska, but maybe she could find a payphone... Oh, my!

Her thoughts skittered to a stop as she saw the young man on the motorcycle behind her. He took off his helmet and sunglasses, and her breath caught in her throat -- he was gorgeous! Thick, black hair, squarish jaw, _blue_ eyes...he almost looked familiar somehow, but she couldn't quite place him unless maybe he was a model or something? Oh wait, his lips were moving; he must be talking...

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The gorgeous man smiled, revealing a hint of a dimple in his cheek as well as a set of strong white teeth. When these things were coupled with the twinkle in eyes, he was somehow even _more_ attractive.

"I asked if you could use a hand?"

She managed to corral her wayward thoughts enough to form a coherent answer. "I think so. I tried calling for roadside assistance, but my cell phone isn't working."

He smiled at her again. "Let me take a look. Do you have a spare?"

She nodded and popped the trunk so he could see. He took off his leather jacket and got to work. Within a few minutes, he had the car up on the jack and was making quick work of removing the flat tire. Jennifer found herself almost hypnotically watching the play of the man's muscles as he turned the tire iron. He certainly had a lot of muscles... 

Far too soon for her liking, the young man had finished changing the tire, put the flat tire and the jack back into her trunk, and was wiping his hands off on a rag from his saddlebags. She sauntered over to him, feeling challenged enough to see if she could affect him as much as he was affecting her. From the smile and raised eyebrow he gave her, she thought she might have succeeded.

"I'd like to thank you for helping me out like this," she said huskily.

"How about having dinner with me this evening?" he asked somewhat bluntly. At her start of surprise, he continued, "I'm new to Chicago -- I don't know anyone here, and I'm not all that eager to eat by myself. Would you care to join me? My name's Robbie Malone, by the way." He offered her his hand.

She took it, and was then slightly surprised when he brought it to his lips to kiss the back of her knuckles. "Jennifer Hill," she replied. "I did have...plans for the evening, but...nothing that can't be changed."

"Great." He treated her to that bone-melting smile again. "Do you want to meet me somewhere? I'd offer to pick you up, but this bike isn't really built for that sort of thing."

When it came to men, Jennifer tended to trust her instincts which had rarely been wrong. She was intrigued by this man, and her instincts told her he wouldn't hurt her. She made her decision. "Why don't you meet me at my place, and we can go in my car?"

"That works for me. About 8?"

"Eight would be fine. Let me give you my address," she said as she pulled some notepaper out of her purse. 

He took the piece of paper from her, opened her door for her as she got back in her car, and returned her wave as she drove away. "Robbie Malone" then got back on his motorcycle and drove back to his hotel.

  


****

Dick heaved a mental sigh of relief as he parked Jennifer's car in her garage. He got out and opened the passenger door and helped Jennifer out. Slightly tipsy, she giggled and wound her arms around her escort and tried to pull his head down for a kiss.

"Ah, why don't we go inside where we'll be more comfortable?" he suggested somewhat desperately. She giggled again, and he managed to steer her inside without too much difficulty. She wanted to head straight for the bedroom, but he was able to nudge her towards the living room couch instead. Once there, she collapsed in a heap, pulling him down on top of her.

Dick finally decided he'd had enough. While Jen busied herself kissing his face and trying to pull his jacket off, he held his breath and broke open one of the sleeping gas capsules he had brought with him. Jennifer looked startled for a moment and struggled to resist the effects of the gas, but it (and the alcohol) was too strong for her. As soon as she went limp, Dick sat up, straightened his clothes, and ran his hands through his hair.

"Babs! You there?"

"Sure thing, Romeo!"

"Aww, Babs, _please_ don't joke about this! I have had the _worst_ evening I can remember since...I don't know when."

"Hey, this was all _your_ idea, remember? What went wrong?" Barbara tried to keep her voice light, but he could hear a hint of worry behind the question.

"I guess it wasn't all _that_ bad -- it was embarrassing, more than anything else."

"What was, Former Boy Wonder?"

"Dinner started off all right, I guess. It was a one of those fancy-schmancy restaurants where the food was supposed to make a 'statement' and the waiters were all snobs or bullies. Between the restaurant and my dinner companion's supposed 'conversation,' I kept flashing back to all those society functions Bruce used to torture me with. _Then_ she started getting drunk!"

"Poor baby," Babs snickered.

"You can laugh! She kept running her foot up my leg! Then she decided to sit next to me, and oops! guess who dropped her earring in my lap and had to retrieve it? Sheesh!"

Dick started smiling a little at the whole absurdity of the situation. "Anyway, she's out of my hair now. Everything cool with the security system?"

"You bet. Her cameras now have no idea you ever existed. I don't detect any alarms anywhere else on the premises, so you can explore at will."

"Thanks, sweetheart. How's the money situation?"

"I tracked down her 'blackmail' account with no problem. There's actually more than enough funds to transfer back to Palmer Electronics."

"Okay. I'll give you a shout as soon as I locate the video tapes."

"All right. Dinah is about to go into action against some terrorist thugs, so I may not answer immediately."

"I understand. I'll call you in a little bit." He sighed as Babs disconnected. At least talking to her had cheered him up some after having been manhandled, or rather, _woman_-handled all evening. "Now if I were blackmail material, where would I be?" he muttered to himself as he pulled some surgical gloves out of his pocket.

Deciding to begin with the most logical spot, Dick started his search in her bedroom closet. After picking his way gingerly through the cramped space (how many shoes can one woman _wear_ for Pete's sake?), he found his objective -- a small safe hidden behind the rack of clothes. On a hunch, Dick tried pulling the handle. Yep, she hadn't bothered to turn the dial to lock the safe. Shaking his head, he opened the door. Inside were four video tapes and two large envelopes. Hmmm. Maybe Thompson wasn't her only victim.

As Dick took the materials out of the safe, a sense of deja vu washed over him. At first, he couldn't think why, but then a cold chill went up his spine as he remembered. It was seeing his hand covered with the surgical glove reaching into the safe that triggered the memory. Yes, this certainly was a night for flashbacks ...

  


****

It had happened when Dick was fourteen, after a charity softball game, of all things; Dick's school had proposed the game as one of their main fundraisers. The boys played against their fathers, cheered on by spectators who had paid dearly for tickets. It was a hard-fought contest, but in the end, youth (and more recent softball experience) had prevailed. Dick was celebrating with his classmates, so he hadn't really noticed when Jeremy McNabb had joined them.

McNabb was a partner in a large brokerage firm and a member of one of Gotham's oldest families. He was on every society matron's A-list and was the chair of quite a few charitable commitees. Dick couldn't stand the man. However, Alfred had always enjoined him to be polite, so when McNabb asked to speak to him privately, Dick agreed. Once McNabb was alone with Dick, his demeanor shifted slightly; Dick became uncomfortably aware of how close the man was standing to him.

"What did you need to see me about, Mr. McNabb?"

And McNabb told him. Fortunately, before McNabb could really _do_ anything, one of Dick's teammates had come looking for him, and he was able to escape. Later that night, as he lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, he reviewed the situation.

McNabb had given him a choice: sex with him or see Bruce turned in as a child molester with an "anonymous" tip to Child Protective Services. Dick clenched his fists in frustration at the problem before him. Part of him wanted to tell Bruce -- have Bruce make it all go away -- but he knew that was a child's reaction, a pretense he could no longer afford. As he looked back over the last few years, Dick wasn't really sure when he had ceased to feel like a child. Maybe it was realizing that his decisions could save or condemn his fellow Teen Titans' lives; maybe it was seeing all the darkness and corruption on his nightly patrols with Batman; perhaps it was when he first heard the rumors being spread about his relationship with Bruce. The idea that people could think something like that about a man he regarded as his father (although he was careful not to call him that) was hideous. That talk, of course, gave weight to the force of McNabb's threat.

But what to do about McNabb? 

As he lay there, he began to wonder...Surely he wasn't McNabb's first target? Assuming there were others, maybe he could find some evidence that would expose McNabb, thus nullifying his threat. And tonight would be a perfect night to do it, since both Bruce and McNabb would be occupied with one of those society dinners that Bruce hated. Alfred would be off with Bruce, keeping an ear on the police scanner in the Bentley in case Batman's presence was needed.

Technically, Robin had proved he could take care of himself and was allowed to fly solo. In actuality, Bruce strongly disapproved of his going out alone and had set up several barriers to prevent this -- Robin wasn't supposed to go out unless his homework had been done, his work for Batman had been done, and Alfred was available to monitor his communications. Oh well. If he could pull this off, he should be back in the Manor before either of them noticed he was gone.

Once Bruce and Alfred had left for the party, Dick put his plans in motion. After some thought, he decided to do most of his work as Dick Grayson. If worse came to worst, he would rather be caught as Dick Grayson than risk Robin's identity. He put his gear together, mounted his motorcycle, and sped away from the Manor, leaving a short note on his pillow, just in case.

When he reached the McNabb estate, Dick reviewed his earlier research. Knowing Bruce, he hadn't been surprised to find complete floor plans and security diagrams for the house and grounds. While he didn't think Bruce had intended them to be used in breaking and entering, Dick was grateful for the assistance. As the notes indicated, there weren't many servants around at night, so he was able to wander about pretty much at will. Just to be on the safe side, he wore surgical gloves to make sure he left no fingerprints.

Dick struck paydirt when he reached the master suite -- specifically the rudimentary safe built into the closet. The standard-issue combination safe was no match for a student of the Bat, although Dick shook his head in some amusement at the purposes his skills had been used for that evening. All thoughts of humor left his face as the contents of the safe were revealed. For a few seconds, he was afraid that he was going to disgrace himself by being violently, physically ill.

The safe contained pictures. Pictures of boys alone and with men. Dick fought off his nausea as he forced himself to look through the photos. There! That was McNabb! And with him... 

Once again, Dick had to fight against throwing up. Right there in front of him was Jeremy McNabb, pillar of the community, favorite of Gotham's society matrons, engaging in sexual acts with an obviously terrified boy of Dick's age. Dick knew the boy was his age because he sat across from Dick in American History class. 

Very carefully, Dick replaced the photos in the safe, spun the dial back to where it had been, and put everything back into place in the closet. He left the estate, found his motorcycle, and just sat there in the dark, trying to think about what he should do, instead of what he had seen. Finally, he changed into his Robin costume and rode into downtown Gotham.

If things hadn't been so serious, Dick would've gotten a kick out of Captain Gordon's start of surprise when he saw Robin tapping at his window. Once Gordon had let him in, and Robin had assured him that Batman wasn't in trouble, Dick wasn't sure how to proceed. Gordon sensed his discomfort and tried to help him out.

"Is there something I can help you with, Robin?"

"Yes sir, ..."

"Robin?"

"Sir, uh, Batman has told me that you can get a search warrant based on an anonymous source."

"It's called a 'reliable informant,' that's right."

"And you don't have to name the source?"

"Correct. If I swear an affidavit that a reliable anonymous informant has given me reason to request a search, the judge won't require me to name my source." Gordon stared at him expectantly.

"Okay." Dick took a deep breath. "I think you should search the house of Jeremy McNabb for child pornography."

"..." Gordon just stared at him in shock. "Jeremy McNabb?!?"

"Yes sir. And yes, _that_ Jeremy McNabb." As Gordon just stared at him, Dick continued, trying to remain as impassive as he knew Batman would. "A friend of mine told me McNabb had approached him for sex; when I searched through McNabb's house, I found a safe in his bedroom with...photos of ..." Dick trailed off, finding it impossible to continue. He turned his head away from Gordon in shame at his weakness but started when he felt Gordon's hand grasp his shoulder in comfort.

"I...understand, son. You said these photos were in a safe in his bedroom?"

Dick nodded.

"All right. I'll get the warrant." He ruffled Robin's hair and tried to inject a lighter tone in his voice, "and we'll just pretend I didn't hear you say you broke into his house."

As Gordon turned away, Dick called out, "Captain? Could you do me another favor and not mention _any_ of this to Batman?"

Gordon turned back. "So Batman doesn't know about this?"

"No, sir. And I'd really rather he didn't."

Gordon stared at him for a few moments, and then said, "I'll agree on one condition. Can you swear to me that none of those pictures are of you? That McNabb didn't ..."

Dick quickly assured his friend, "I promise, Captain! Like I said, all I knew was that he had made some overtures to a...friend of mine. That made me suspicious." 

"All right, son. I believe you."

"Thanks, sir!" Robin called out as he leapt out the window and headed back home.

Captain Gordon had gotten his search warrant, descended upon the McNabb estate, and found Jeremy McNabb's cache of child pornography. Gotham City was shocked when word of his arrest hit the news. Prosecutors even persuaded Dick's classmate to testify against McNabb, which combined with the photos, assured his conviction on charges of child pornography and molestation. Dick tried not to take satisfaction from McNabb's "accidental" death once he was in Blackgate Prison. It seemed convicts didn't like child molesters either.

And as far as he could tell, only Gordon knew the role Dick had played in that little drama.

  



	7. Auld Lang Syne

Dick shook his head as if he could shed the bad memories like water. He'd seen much worse things since that time, but he supposed the early memories would always be the strongest. Back to work. He found a VCR and television set in the bedroom and inserted the first of the tapes. He grimaced as the images appeared on the screen -- yep, that was Thompson, all right. He fast-forwarded through the rest of the tape to be sure there weren't any surprises, but it was all Thompson and Jen Hill.

He put in the next tape. That was Thompson as well. The third tape revealed a different man -- a man who was also the subject of the collection of photos in one of the envelopes. The fourth tape featured this same man. Dick didn't recognize him, but he figured Babs would be able to figure out who he was. Dick would take the materials in any event.

"Babs? You got a minute?"

"Yeah, Dinah's gone to ground until the heat blows over."

"Don't tell me she's actually being _sensible_ for a change?" he asked facetiously. 

"Oh, like _you're_ always the sensible one?"

"Of course I am! Sensible is my middle name!"

"Your minute's about up, handsome. Are you ready for me to transfer the money?"

"Yeah. $4,000,000 back to Palmer Electronics."

"What about the $400,000 Thompson paid her himself?"

"I think Mr. Thompson needs to take _some_ kind of punishment over this whole thing, don't you? I mean, if he hadn't cheated on his wife in the first place, none of this would've happened."

"Works for me. You need anything else?"

"Nope. I'm just going to wake Ms. Jennifer Hill up, introduce myself, explain what's happened, and then I'm out of here."

"Introduce yourself?" Barbara squeaked.

"Of course," he replied, surprised.

"What do you mean, 'of course'?!?! Are you out of your mind?"

"I took this job as Dick Grayson. What's wrong with telling her who I am?" he asked. When Barbara didn't reply, he continued in a more serious tone, "Babs, this is something I need to do. You keep insisting that old incident between her and me must still bother me. I don't know, maybe you're right. I just know I need some closure here, and I can't have that as 'Robbie Malone.'"

"Dick ..." Her voice trailed off, sadly.

"Look, if you want, I'll keep an open mike while I talk to her. Would that help?"

"Yeah. I think so. Okay."

"Okay."

Before leaving Jen's bedroom, Dick swiped a couple of scarves from the closet. He went back downstairs to the living room, and after surveying the furniture, positioned the unconscious woman in an armchair next to a heavy, glass-topped display table. Taking the scarves, Dick first tied one of her arms to the table; then he tied one foot to the leg of the chair. Finally, Dick pulled out a small wrapper of smelling salts, broke the seal, and waved the salts under Jen's nose. When she started to come around, he put the salts in her unbound hand and stepped several feet away from her.

It took several more minutes, but soon Jennifer Hill regained consciousness and began looking around her in some confusion. She quickly realized that one of her hands wasn't moving the way it was supposed to. She started pulling at the scarf binding her to the table, but her coordination was still off. She didn't make the connection between her situation and the man in front of her until Dick began to speak.

"You know, Ms. Hill -- you really _should_ be more careful about letting strange men into your home."

Jennifer gasped in fright and began pulling frantically at her bindings. 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. The only reason I tied you up was that I wanted to make sure you didn't go anywhere until after I left. Once the knockout gas completely wears off, you shouldn't have any problems untying yourself."

Jennifer started to calm down as she realized the man she knew as Robbie was just sitting in another armchair across from her. "What do you want?" she finally asked.

"Oh, I've already gotten everything I came for. Do you recognize these?" Dick held up the envelopes and the tapes.

"You _bastard_!"

"Now, now. You played the game, but you lost. And, by the way, all of the money Thompson embezzled for you has gone back to his company. I don't know who the other sap is yet, but I'm sure I can find out and let him know he's also off the hook."

Now she just gaped at him, too angry to speak.

"Finally, I really should introduce myself properly. My name isn't Robbie Malone. You may not remember, but we've actually met before -- I'm Dick Grayson."

He could tell the moment when she remembered who Dick Grayson was. Her face flushed, the tendons on her neck stood out, and she almost pulled the glass table over in an attempt to get to him.

"Oooh! How dare you! You ..." She began shouting obscenities at him and continued on for quite a while until Dick finally had enough.

"I'd suggest you stop insulting me and start thinking about what you're going to tell the police."

"The police?!?"

"Sure. I can't say for certain that he will, but Thompson could easily charge you with extortion. Then there's the whole corporate sabotage thing."

"Wha...what are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on! You don't expect me, or the police, to believe that _you_ came up with that accounting scam? Maybe you can cut a deal if you roll over on Sarah Montgomery or Hart Electronics."

"How do you know about...I mean...who's this Sarah Montgomery?"

"Lady, I'm not going to sit here and play games with you. I just want to make sure you're out of the extortion business whether the police charge you or not, and I intend to make sure of it."

"H..how are you going to stop me?" she asked somewhat defiantly, still reeling from the threat of police involvement.

"I plan to keep an eye on your activities. As long as you stay on the right side of the law, you need never see me again. Otherwise, we'll have to have a nice reunion or something," he smiled sardonically.

"I guess I should be flattered you've waited all this time to get your revenge on me," she said viciously.

"To be honest, I hadn't given you a thought since you divorced Mayor Hill."

"From what _Brucie_ said, I was supposed to have _traumatized_ you!"

"Parents have a tendency to overreact sometimes."

"Oooh, _parents_, huh?" she responded tauntingly. "So that's what you're calling him now. I'm sure the family 'get-togethers' must be just _fascinating_. Do you ever get to be on top?"

Dick remembered the scene in the library between Bruce, Flynn, and Jen. He remembered how she had attacked Bruce -- the accusations she'd made while he hid behind the sofa. The anger that he'd never been allowed to express came bursting to the surface, surprising him with its intensity. "Aren't you a little...old...to be making childish comments like that?" He felt a distant sort of surprise at his own cruelty. "I mean, you're what...almost forty aren't you?"

"I'm thirty-three!" she corrected involuntarily.

"I'm sorry," he responded in mock apology. "I guess it's those lines around your mouth that made me think that. I've heard smoking can do that -- add wrinkles, I mean." He continued, mockingly, "Have you given much thought to what you're going to do when you can't use your body to get what you want? Oh! Maybe that's what you were blackmailing those men for -- that was your retirement fund! Sorry to disrupt your plans. You've still got a _few_ more years to figure something out."

As much as Dick wanted to continue, he brought himself up short. He would _not_ allow himself to descend to her level any more. "I'm sorry," he said, honestly this time. "I don't want to be cruel. I _did_ play upon your weaknesses in order to get close enough to...acquire this material. I don't really blame you for being angry."

Jennifer Hill stared at Dick in blank astonishment. She'd taunted and insulted him; he'd retaliated -- that she understood. Now he was _apologizing_?!? 

Dick saw her confusion and smiled. 'A soft answer turneth away wrath,' he heard his mother's voice say inside his head. Maybe, just _maybe_ he could make some good come out of this whole situation.

"Why do you do it, Ms. Hill?" he asked gently.

"Do what?" Sullenly.

"Why do you prostitute yourself like this?" He smiled at her look of indignant denial and continued, "What else do you call having sex with men in exchange for money? What makes you do this? The money?"

"Believe whatever you want. You got what you came for. So go."

"No, really. I want to know." 

Jennifer stared at the young man sitting across from her. Despite everything that had happened, she found herself unable to remain angry with him. Her instincts were still telling her she could trust him, for God's sake! "Why do you want to know? Are you some kind of shrink or something?"

"Nope. It's just...I was never able to figure out why you came on to me when I was sixteen, and when I learned you were blackmailing that man...it was really easy to think of you as some sort of sexual predator. Maybe you really are, but I'd like to understand why -- both for then and now."

Jennifer gave a short, unamused laugh. "You must not have looked in a mirror much when you were sixteen, kid." She laughed again with more humor as Dick blushed. "I'm serious, although I'll admit, figuring out who you were made you more...amusing...to play with." 

Dick frowned in remembered anger. "I was _not_ a play thing! What would you have thought if our situations were reversed? If you were a sixteen-year-old girl, and I was the twenty-something-year-old _adult_?"

Jennifer was silent for a long time staring off into space. "That no one would care...that no one would believe me." She seemed to sink deeper into herself. "And then they just throw you away. They only want one thing, you know. And once you're not pretty anymore, the cold will get you."

"The cold?" Dick asked gently, trying not to disturb the flow of her confession. 

She whispered in a childlike voice, "The cold got my momma -- he turned us out, and one morning I woke up, and she was dead." Her voice got stronger as she continued, "And I swore that the cold was not going to get me. No, I was going to be safe before they could throw me away." She started, as if she were waking up from a trance. Jen glanced over at Dick and then looked away in embarrassment.

Dick almost smiled as he finally put the pieces together. "This is all some kind of power game. _That's_ it, isn't it?" She looked at him in some puzzlement, so he explained, "It's not about sex, is it? You _like_ having power over men, whether it's through sex or blackmail or whatever."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she said defensively.

Dick knew he'd struck a nerve. "As an old friend of mine once said, 'You grab a man by his dumb handle, and he'll follow you anywhere.' You must have gotten quite a kick out of turning the tables on men like the ones who'd hurt you before." Jennifer nodded almost involuntarily, a rather vicious smile on her face. Dick smiled as well, but then his expression turned serious again as he asked, "But is this kind of life making you happy? Don't you want something more...meaningful out of life?"

"What makes you think I'm not happy?" she asked sulkily.

"I don't think someone who's happy would still be looking for revenge for something that happened almost twenty years ago. Or if it isn't revenge, who only sees a relationship between a man and a woman as a power struggle."

"It's like I said, men only want sex. Once a woman's too old or ugly, she's stuck; so she needs to get as much security as she can while she can."

"Jennifer, obviously I can't speak for every guy out there, but there are those of us who _do_ want more than sex from a woman," Dick replied. At her continued expression of disbelief, he continued, speaking now from his heart. "Let me tell you about the woman _I_ love." Jennifer stiffened in her chair, and Dick smiled slightly at the small gasp he heard in his earpiece. "Please?" Jennifer reluctantly nodded.

"The woman I love _is_ beautiful, yes, and our...uh...sex life is great," he said, blushing in embarrassment. Babs was going to kill him. "But that's not all there is to our relationship," he continued earnestly. "We laugh together, we talk -- I can talk to her about _anything_. Her laughter can brighten the darkest day for me. It hasn't always been easy for us -- there have been misunderstandings, even arguments, but through it all there has always been this...bond between us." 

He looked at Jennifer to see if she was listening to him; amazingly enough, she was -- the skeptical look was gone and in its place was a sort of amused, thoughtful expression he wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Now for the hard part.

"I haven't told this to anyone else, but I have this dream: I want to wake up next to my sweetheart every day for the rest of my life; I want us to grow old together. Every once in a while, I'll see a little old man and a little old woman walking down the street holding hands, and I'll think, 'I want to be like that one day.' It doesn't really matter to me that one day her hair will turn gray, or that her face will have wrinkles, because I plan to be gray and wrinkled right there with her. I guess, what I want to emphasize, is that my love for her is based on more than her physical appearance. I love her for who she is, not what she looks like."

Jen's amused look had turned to one of resignation. She sighed, "That's nice, but that sort of thing doesn't happen to people like me."

"Why not?"

"Because...because I'm the 'Other Woman,' the 'Tramp,' the 'Homewrecker,'" she said cynically. "I'm the one who disappears from the scene while the hero and heroine live happily ever after."

"Well, to be blunt, if you'd stop hanging around married men, you wouldn't _be_ any of those things," Dick replied honestly. "Look, as I said earlier, I'm _not_ a psychologist. Whether you need one or not is your call; all I'm saying is that ruining men's lives now won't punish the men who hurt you before. You need to find some way to move on."

He looked at his watch and realized the window Babs had created in the building's security net was going to be closing soon. "I'm sorry, but I need to get going. I honestly don't know whether Thompson will press charges, but I tend to doubt it. I would certainly recommend you disassociate yourself from Ms. Montgomery." He pulled out his billfold and took one of the Wayne Enterprises business cards he had brought along just in case. Turning it over he wrote down the phone number of his Gotham apartment.

"I'm leaving you my phone number. Think about what I've said. If you ever need help, give me a call. Good-bye, Jennifer."

"Good-bye, Dick. I'm still not sure whether to swear at you, laugh at you, or thank you. But it's certainly been a _memorable_ evening."

"My girlfriend tells me I often have that effect on her," he replied, smiling. Gathering his things, he walked out the door to the garage, got on his motorcycle, and sped away into the night.

Then came a voice like unto the sound of doom through his earpiece.

"Okay, Grayson. Now that you're out of there, we need to talk."

  



	8. Auld Lang Syne

"You want to tell me what the heck _that_ was all about?" Barbara asked Dick.

"I thought it was all pretty self-explanatory," he responded defensively.

"Dick, this woman is _bad news_!! No matter what sob story she spun you back there, you can't imagine she's going to stop being a conniving, egotistical bitch! And you gave her your _phone number_?!? Bruce will _freak_!!"

"It was my old Gotham phone number, Babs," Dick replied wearily. "You know, the one that goes through umpteen different routes, and that even _you_ had trouble tracing where it ended up."

"Oh. But what if she calls you?"

"I honestly think she'll be too embarrassed to call me up, but if she calls, I'll help her if I can," he replied simply. "You didn't see her, Babs...and no, she wasn't scamming me," he correctly interpreted her snort of disbelief. "She looked so lost when she was describing her mother and the cold. Anyway, what does it matter if she holds a grudge? Or rather, based on her reaction to finding out who I am, _continues_ to hold a grudge? She'll just have to get into line behind all the others," he said, with a smile of real amusement.

"All right, but what about ..."

Dick interjected before she could go any farther, "Look, Babs, could we wait to cover this until I get back to the hotel? Trying to navigate an unfamiliar city at night is hard enough without trying to conduct a serious conversation with you at the same time. I'll call you when I'm in my room," Dick finished cutting the connection.

Once he had returned to the hotel, Dick traded his suit for some comfortable sweats. He grabbed a soda from the well-stocked bar and flopped down on the king-size bed with his laptop to continue his "discussion" with Barbara. He crossed his fingers that he had delayed long enough and activated the video link. "Babs?"

"Yeah?" She hadn't activated her camera, and her voice sounded rather husky ...

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" Her face appeared on his screen, and he saw that his suspicions were correct -- she'd been crying. "Babs, I'm sorry ..."

"No," she interrupted, "it's okay. I shouldn't have fussed at you. It's just ..." her voice drifted off.

"Did you replay the conversation?"

"Yeah." The corner of her mouth twitched up. "And you knew I would, you rat! Once I got past your telling Jennifer Hill about our sex life, I finally _heard_ what you said after that." Her voice got softer as she continued, "And you meant all of that, didn't you, Boy Wonder? The part about your dream, and the little old man and woman. You really meant what you said?"

"Always, sweetheart. Let me tell you about some neighbors of mine: J.D. and Thelma Brown. They're in their seventies I think; I would usually see them on my way to Hogan's. They would be out for their 'constitutional' -- a walk around the block. They would always be holding hands, with J.D. walking on the street side like a gentleman. A few months ago, I decided to check up on them because I hadn't seen them in a while -- turns out J.D.'s got emphysema and can't go walking anymore. Anyway, I did a few household chores for them -- heavy lifting stuff that he couldn't do -- and Thelma fed me sugar cookies even better than Alfred's. So I check on them once a week or so. 

"J.D. tries to be strong for Thelma so she won't worry, and Thelma stays awake at night keeping an ear out for any changes in J.D.'s breathing. He told me he is able to sleep more soundly just knowing that she is looking out for him, but then he feels guilty about that and tries to get her to nap during the day. Through everything that's happened, though, you can still see the love between the two of them. That's who I want to be like; that's the real thing."

Barbara sniffled a bit as he finished his story. "That's...really, really special, Dick. I can see why you'd want that. Maybe ..." she stopped to swallow hard, "maybe, we can share that kind of life...someday ...?"

"I'd like that," he agreed gently.

"So, um, what did you have planned for the rest of the evening?" Barbara asked after a moment of intense silence.

Dick smiled at her, going along with her efforts to re-establish their teasing banter. "I was _really_ tempted to go 'out' tonight -- I practically heard the Sears Tower calling my name today! But I better not. It's not worth the risk of having Nightwing show up in Chicago. So I think I may just call it a night and get an early start in the morning. How about you?"

"Oh, Dinah's going to be needing my help in a little bit. After that, it's just the usual." She sighed, but then brightened as an idea occurred to her. "Tell you what -- why don't you call me when you get ready for bed?" She smiled wickedly.

"Oh? And why would I want to do that?" he asked with a wicked smile of his own.

"Well, even though I can't tuck you in, I just _might_ be persuaded to tell you a bedtime story."

"Once a babysitter, always a babysitter?"

"Something like that," she replied huskily, "although my story material may be _slightly_ different this time around."

"Well, maybe I can persuade you then," he said suggestively. "When do you need to contact Dinah?"

"In about twenty minutes. It shouldn't take more than forty-five minutes to get her in the clear."

"All right. It's 10:30 now; why don't I call you back around midnight?"

"That would be fine. Talk to you later." She winked at him as she disappeared from his screen.

Dick smiled to himself, stretched his arms over his head, and tried to figure out what he was going to do for the next ninety minutes. He took advantage of the rare night in to watch ESPN's SportCenter -- he really preferred the late-night hosts, but he rarely had a chance to catch their show. Once that was over, he brushed his teeth, took his shower, and dried his hair. 

He checked the time -- 11:40. He wrote up a summary of his day's activities for Babs to include in her report to Bruce if she felt like it. He checked the clock again (he was starting to feel some sympathy for Wally) -- 11:55. Dick walked around the room, picking up his discarded clothes, turning off lights, and doing everything but twiddling his thumbs. Midnight. Finally.

Leaving a single light on across the room, Dick got into bed and contacted Babs on the laptop. "Hey, gorgeous!"

Her smiling face popped up on his computer screen, "Hi!"

"Dinah get away all right?"

"Yeah. She's in the air and on her way back home." Barbara's smile turned sultry, "You ready for your bedtime story, Boy Wonder?"

"I brushed my teeth and even washed behind my ears. I think I deserve _something_ as a reward."

"Well first, I want you to move the computer over so that it's on the pillow next to you, and then I want you to lie down." She grinned at him. "I can't very well tell you a bedtime story if you're sitting up in bed can I?"

"I guess not," Dick replied, and did as she asked.

Once Dick and the computer were settled, Babs began her story.

"Once upon a time, a handsome young knight journeyed to a far-off land on a quest, leaving his lady behind. She missed her knight very much, even though she could still talk to him by means of a wonderful magic spell. One evening, the loneliness grew so great, she tried to find a magic spell that would allow her to join her knight in his quest, but she was unable to. Finally, she found a spell that would enhance her existing magic spell that allowed her to speak to her knight, so that by using his body, it would be as if she were there." 

An amused smile of understanding and anticipation lit Dick's face. Barbara smiled in return as she continued her story. "She invoked her spell and gazed upon her handsome knight as he lay sleeping on his bed. She raised his right arm ..." Babs waited. When Dick didn't move, she raised her eyebrow at him and repeated in a slightly louder voice, "She raised his right arm ..." and saw Dick lift his right arm. She nodded at him in approval.

"She used his right hand to caress his mouth as if she were able to," and he complied, rubbing his fingers lightly over his smiling mouth. "Then, she took both hands and rubbed them over his chest, rolling his nipples around with his fingers." Babs smiled as she heard his breath catch at what she was having Dick do. Her own breathing was uneven as well, but she managed to continue telling her "story." "Then she threw off the covers, and moved his hands along his stomach and down to his thighs." 

She was unable now to disguise the raggedness of her breathing, and she saw Dick grinning at her efforts to control the huskiness of her voice. "Although she was surprised to find him naked under the covers, she was not displeased. She loved the feel of his thighs -- the movement of the muscles beneath his hands, the fine hairs that slightly tickled. She knew what he wanted though, and so she moved one of his hands to grasp the 'sword' that her knight _always_ carried with him," she said with a snicker as Dick suited words to action once again.

Dick was completely caught up in the spell Babs was weaving. At times he was almost able to convince himself it _was_ Babs who was caressing him. His breathing grew harsher as the pleasure he was giving himself grew more and more intense. He waited, somewhat anxiously, for the next part of the story.

"Taking his other hand, the lady...oh, crap!" Barbara interjected in a more normal tone. "I'm sorry, but Batman is paging me. Hold my place!" she said with a grin as she disappeared from the screen, and the Oracle icon appeared.

Dick muttered to himself, trying to think of suitable forms of revenge on Bruce (thinking about revenge on Batman was not a safe line of thought). He was debating between telling Alfred about Bruce's secret stash of "Butterfingers" and telling Lucius Fox that Bruce had confessed a secret desire to have a more "hands-on" role in Wayne Enterprises activities, when Barbara came back onscreen. From the expression on her face, he knew their "bedtime story" was over.

"I'm so sorry, honey! The Boss needs me to coordinate him, Az, and Batgirl on a crackhouse hit. I'm probably going to be tied up for an hour or so. Forgive me?"

"It's okay, Babs. I understand. I'll call you sometime tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. I love you, Dick."

"I love you too, my fair lady." It was difficult to execute a bow from a lying position, but Dick gave it a good try. He succeeded in his main effort which was to make Babs smile as she disappeared again from the screen. Shaking his head in resignation, Dick put on his pajama bottoms and settled himself to go to sleep. He knew he could have continued their "story" by himself, but it just didn't seem...right without Babs being there. 

Since he hadn't had much sleep the night before, and his day had begun unusually early, he didn't have much trouble falling asleep. Not surprisingly, his dreams that night were filled with knights, red-haired ladies, dragons, and an old man and woman walking down the street holdiing hands.

  



	9. Auld Lang Syne

_Saturday_

  


Dick grumbled to himself as he stared at the clock beside the bed. 6:34 A.M. Since he'd gone to bed at an unusually early hour, naturally he had _awakened_ at an unusually early hour. He had always believed in the philosophy of never turning down an opportunity to grab some extra sleep, but that was only because he never got any. He finally threw off the covers and got up. Might as well do something _productive_ as long as he was awake.

At such an early hour on a Saturday morning, the hotel's gym was practically deserted. Dick spent about an hour going through his usual weight routine followed by a nice, long jog on the bike path near the lake. He then went back to his room, took a quick shower, and dressed in some jeans and a button-down shirt. He checked his watch: 9:05. Finally! Dick dialed Gary Thompson's home number.

"Thompson residence. May I help you?" intoned the cultured voice.

'Alfred does that sort of thing _much_ better,' Dick snickered to himself. "Yes, my name is Richard Grayson. Is Mr. Thompson available?"

"Just a moment, sir, I will find out."

Dick wasn't surprised when, after only a minute or so, Thompson came on the line.

"Grayson? Yes, this is Gary Thompson," he said, obviously trying to remain calm. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, Mr. Thompson, I was wondering if you would be free to meet with me this morning? I believe I may have some items that belong to you."

"Oh my G... Oh, um, of course I can meet with you. Um, say, have you had breakfast yet?" Thompson babbled. "My...wife isn't home this weekend, and the cook always makes too much ..." 

"Breakfast would be fine. I can be there in about thirty minutes if that's convenient."

"Yes! I mean...yes, that would be, uh, fine. I'll see you then."

Dick smiled at the combined relief and concern he heard in Thompson's voice. Picking up the leather portfolio containing the appropriate envelope and video tape, he set out on the motorcycle once again.

Thompson lived in one of the grand old homes on the north side of the city. While not precisely a mansion, it was still a very large, very impressive building. Dick identified himself at the gated entrance, and upon arriving at the front entrance, was greeted by both the butler and Thompson himself.

Thompson shook Dick's hand and ushered him into the family dining room where a fairly sumptuous buffet was spread.

"You weren't kidding about your cook, were you Mr. Thompson!" Dick said in some astonishment. While Alfred believed in feeding his charges "properly," he would _never_ have prepared this much food for just two people.

"This is how my wife's family always took breakfast on Saturday mornings," he replied absently. "I've never been able to convince Henrie that all I want is just bacon and eggs. When my wife's not here, I usually try to invite the servants or business friends or _somebody_ to help me eat all this."

Dick and Thompson sat at the table, filled their plates, and began to eat. Dick noticed that Thompson didn't seem to have much appetite, so he decided to make his report in hopes of cheering Thompson up.

"As I said on the phone, I have some items I believe belong to you." Dick opened his portfolio, pulled out the envelope and video tape, and handed them to Thompson, who looked at him in wonder. "I can't guarantee that these are the only copies, but I'm fairly certain that Ms. Hill didn't take the trouble to make duplicates."

"H..how did you get these?"

"I'd rather not say. Also, the money that you embezzled has been put back into Palmer Electronics' main account." He grinned. "I'd rather not say how that was done either."

"I...don't know what to say. How can I thank you?"

"First off, I expect you to make a full confession to your partners. You're not going to be able to hide this -- your accountants are going to be pretty confused when they find out $4,000,000 has just appeared in the bank. Secondly, I would ask that you _not_ pursue charges of extortion against Jennifer Hill. Third," Dick paused and then continued more hesitantly, "don't do stupid stuff like this anymore. Let's face it -- if you'd kept your pants zipped in the first place, this whole situation would never have developed!"

Thompson looked indignant for a moment, but his expression swiftly changed to remorse. "Maybe you're right. I wanted 'excitement' didn't I, and look what I got." He continued in a quiet voice, "I had already planned to tell the others what was going on -- there's a board meeting scheduled for Wednesday to discuss our financial 'difficulties.' You've made my job a little easier by recovering the money, but I'll still inform them of my role in the whole thing. I'll let them decide what to do with me."

"And Jennifer Hill?"

"I can't really charge her without revealing everything that's happened. I don't want to do that. I just hope I never see her again," he said bitterly.

"That's all I have then," Dick said cheerfully. The two men finished eating in silence.

Thompson escorted Dick outside and shook his hand once more. "Grayson, it's been very interesting meeting you. Thanks for all you've done."

Dick mounted the motorcycle and held the helmet in his hands. "I didn't really do all that much. I hope everything works out okay for you, sir."

"At least the pressure's gone. And with the money back in place, the company will survive. That's more than I had even hoped for before yesterday."

Dick put his helmet on, "Good-bye, Mr. Thompson."

"Good-bye, Grayson. You take care."

Dick waved as he rode out of the impressive entrance and back out on the street.

  


****

Once back at the hotel, Dick made one final call to Babs before he finished packing his things. "Hey, good-lookin'!"

Barbara Gordon's slightly sleepy face appeared on the screen. "Hi!" she yawned.

"Oooh. Late night?"

"Yeah. After I got done with the Bat-crew, J'onn called me up and needed some information on ancient Mayan customs. Woo, what fun!" she said sarcastically.

"Now, now. At least he called you up -- they weren't even doing _that_ for a while there."

"Yeah, I know. It still ticks me off."

"Tell me about it. The next Titans meeting after...it...happened, Jesse kept glaring at me as if she expected me to start attacking them or something."

"Are you sure she was glaring and not _leering_?" Babs asked teasingly.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. "Anyway, I'm about to close up shop here. I should be back in Gotham around 3:00. Do you think you'll be able to pick me up at the airport, or should I just plan on calling a cab?"

"My afternoon's clear as far as I know. Just give me a call when you get in."

"I will. See you in a while, sweetheart."

"Just be careful flying your 'classic' plane, handsome. I want you home in one piece."

"Yes, ma'am! 'Bye."

"'Bye."

Dick double-checked the room, gathered his bags, and went down to the lobby to check out. He was pleased to see that the friendly Andrew was the concierge on duty.

"Andrew! I'm glad I caught you before I left!"

"Yes, Mr. Grayson?"

"I wanted to thank you again for finding me such an excellent motorcycle. It's parked down in the garage, and here's the key. Will you be able to handle returning it for me?"

"Of course, sir. Do you need a cab?"

"Yes, please." Dick waited as Andrew hailed a waiting cab and loaded Dick's bags into the car. When he was done, he turned back to Dick.

"Do you need anything else, sir?"

"No, that should do it." He held out some folded bills to Andrew, who took them with thanks. The outer bill was a $10, but as Dick got into the car, he heard Andrew's shout as he found the $100 bill Dick had tucked inside. Dick laughed and waved as they drove off.

"Where to?" the cab driver grunted.

"Meigs Field. But first, I need you to go to Malnati's Pizzeria over on Wells."

"Sure thing."

Dick pulled out his cell phone and dialled the number he had previously memorized.

"Yes, I'd like to order two uncooked medium pizzas to go, please? One with everything but anchovies, the other just pepperoni. Oh, and do you have some kind of insulated bag or something? I'm taking these back to Gotham City on a plane. Thanks." He hung up.

Soon, Dick was on his way to Meigs Field with two authentic Chicago pizzas in tow. He filed his flight plan, arranged for fuel for his plane, and started his pre-flight inspection. It took some manuevering to get the pizzas to fit in the limited amount of space he had available on the plane, but Dick managed. 

By 12:30, Dick was taxiing off the runway and bidding farewell to the city of Chicago. Because of a storm system coming down from Canada, he had to make a slight southerly detour going back to Gotham. In spite of that, he made good time and managed to touch down at the Municipal Airport at 2:45.

When he reached the hangar, Dick was surprised to see Barbara already there waiting for him.

"Hi!" He bent down and gave her a passionate kiss. "I did say 3:00, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I decided to track you when I saw there was bad weather between here and Chicago. When I saw you'd avoided trouble (for once), I came on over."

"An intelligent woman is a double-edged sword, you know that, Terry?" Dick said as the older pilot came forward to greet him.

"Hey, I didn't get to be this old by bein' stupid. You fight your own battles, Grayson," Terry replied, veering off to examine the Mustang.

"But you _like_ swords, Dick," Barbara said under her breath with a mischievous smile.

Dick immediately blushed. Then he laughed and unloaded his gear from the old plane. Terry waved him off from starting any kind of post-flight inspection.

"Dick, I can take care of her from here. You go on home with your girl."

"Thanks, Terry!" Dick walked over to Barbara, carrying his suitbag and carryall in one hand and balancing the bag containing the pizzas in the other. He then placed the pizza bag on her lap. "I brought you something, Babs: Two authentic, deep-dish Chicago pizzas!"

She stared up at him as if he'd gone crazy. "You brought _pizzas_ from Chicago?!?"

"Sure! Whenever it was his turn to bring food, Wally (who knows where the best restaurants are anywhere) would always bring pizza from this place in Chicago. So I brought some home with me. You haven't had lunch yet, have you?" He smiled in satisfaction as she confirmed that she hadn't eaten. "Great! We'll heat up the pizzas and watch 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail.'"

"'Princess Bride.'"

"Grail."

"'Princess Bride.' I'm not sitting around the rest of the evening listening to Grail quotes." She activated the chair lift on her Hummer and got on while Dick stuffed his bags in the back seat.

"You'd rather hear me tell Bruce, 'Have fun stormin' the castle?'" He sat on the passenger side and shut the door.

"... You wouldn't." She started the engine, and they waved at Terry as they drove off.

"You wanna bet?"

"Uh, no." If Dick was willing to bet, he was willing to say it -- he hated to lose.

"So we're watching Grail?"

"I still think I'd prefer Princess Bride quotes to Grail quotes."

"All right," he conceded. He waited until they were at a stop light, and then he leaned over to plant a hard kiss on her mouth. "I like the sword fights in that one better, anyhow." He burst out laughing at her stunned expression.

  



	10. Auld Lang Syne

_The following Friday morning_

  


Bruce Wayne stood in front of the nondescript door attempting to gather his thoughts. Normally, that was not a difficult task, but this was not a normal situation. He knocked. Inside he could hear some music being turned off, and then the door opened to reveal a somewhat-startled Dick Grayson wearing cutoffs and a Bludhaven PD t-shirt.

"Bruce! Uh, hi!"

"Hello, Dick. I...come bearing gifts." He held up a small sack. "Alfred's chocolate chip cookies."

Dick gave him a high-wattage smile. "You certainly know how to make a guy glad to see you! Come on in!" He motioned for Bruce to set the sack down on the table. "Have a seat, and I'll get us some milk to go along with 'em." Dick brought the milk and some glasses to the table and sat down across from Bruce.

The next few minutes were filled with unpacking the cookies, pouring the milk, and just enjoying Alfred's gift. Bruce glanced around the apartment. While it certainly wouldn't win any "Good Housekeeping" awards, it was definitely neater than the last time he had been in Bludhaven, not to mention Tim's description of Dick's New York apartment. Looking through to the bedroom, he saw an ironing board and that Dick must have been in the middle of pressing his uniform trousers.

"I'm sorry for barging in like this. Do you have to...go on duty soon?"

"Nah. Not until 3:00. I just wanted to get ahead on some things while I have a bit of down time."

Bruce smiled slightly to himself. It was rather comforting to talk to someone who knew him well enough to interpret his questions. He finished his cookie, drank some milk, and looked around for a napkin. Dick saw his problem, leaned his chair back on two legs, and snagged a couple of paper towels. He passed one over to Bruce and kept one for himself. Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Don't you look at me like that," Dick warned, smiling. "Remember, _I_ was the one who cleaned up the Manor before Alfred came back from England! Not to mention I doubt you coped all that well while Al was with Tim."

Bruce quirked his mouth in return. Wiping his mouth, he decided it was time to discuss the reason for his visit. "I had an interesting lunch appointment yesterday."

Still amused, Dick raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"With Harrison Palmer." Still no reaction from Dick. "As you may know," he said sardonically, "he is the majority owner in an electronics company that has been having some unexpected financial trouble. He had approached me as an investor to give them some needed capital, and I thought that was what our lunch was going to be about. You can imagine my surprise when he thanked me for uncovering a blackmail and embezzlement scheme and recovering the missing money."

Bruce thought he detected a slight twinkle in Dick's eyes, but he wasn't sure. "He was puzzled, however, by my sending my foster son to investigate the matter instead of someone more, uh, conventional."

Dick smiled. "So what did you say?"

"I said something about its being more of a personal matter than a corporate one, and that you'd volunteered for the job. I'm pretty sure he believed me."

"Good."

Bruce waited, but the son in question just looked at him with that same amused expression. Frowning, he continued his story. "After lunch, I discovered that Barbara had sent her report to my corporate email account, which was why I hadn't seen it yet. Your name was nowhere in it, so I called her and asked for a _complete_ report, which she grudgingly sent." The amused expression disappeared from Dick's face, but Bruce wasn't sure whether it was because of the report or that he had called Barbara.

"The so-called 'complete' report contained more details, but I realized there was still one bit missing -- the blackmailer's identity. So I went to see Barbara in person, this time. That's when she told me that Jennifer Hill was the blackmailer." Dick's expression remained neutral. "I assume that's why you got involved?" Dick nodded. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Dick looked at him for a moment. "I figured it was better this way," he said quietly.

"Better?" Bruce almost shouted. "I've warned you over and over, Dick -- emotion clouds your judgment! Maybe it wasn't a dangerous situation, but you should still know better."

"Bruce, _I'm_ not the one getting all emotional over the situation -- _you_ are. I figured it was better because I _didn't_ have the emotional baggage you did."

"What are you talking about?"

Dick spoke carefully as if talking to a small child. "Jen Hill came closer than anyone I've ever seen to making you break character. I didn't want you to have to deal with all that garbage again. In my judgment, I was better equipped to handle her than you were." He sighed. "I know you don't trust my judgment, but that's the way it goes."

Bruce felt a small pain in his chest at the resignation in his son's voice. "Dick ..." He stopped and then tried again, "I _do_ trust your judgment. It's just that ..." His voice trailed off. "You honestly believe I was more upset by Jennifer Hill than you were?"

"Sure. I can't really remember another time that I heard the Bat when you were supposed to be playing Bruce Wayne. If that isn't 'upset' I don't know what is." He shrugged. "Since I wasn't all _that_ bothered by Jen Hill, it seemed logical."

Bruce suddenly remembered Dick's words when Bruce had realized the young man had heard everything he'd said to the mayor's wife: _I wasn't hurt, Bruce, not traumatized, either. Just...shocked. What bugged me out worse was worrying that I'd screwed up and that you'd rip me a new one for it._

"So you weren't after revenge," he said in realization.

"Well...maybe a little bit," Dick said, smiling again. "I don't like being embarrassed any more than the next guy. But honestly, I just wanted to...protect you." He laughed sheepishly, but then continued with some determination, "'Cause you're still my partner, and that's what partners do."

Bruce gave Dick an almost-smile, and the two men sat in silence for a few moments, eating cookies. The memory of their library conversation brought to Bruce's mind a question he had wanted to ask for many years.

"Something occurred to me awhile back, and it never seemed like the right time to ask," he said tentatively. "_Why_ weren't you more upset by what she did to you?"

Dick looked at him measuringly. "I think you really already know the answer to that," he said calmly.

Bruce closed his eyes. "Because that wasn't the first time it had happened," he stated. He opened his eyes to stare at his son.

"Uh huh." 

"When... how many ..." his voice skittered a bit. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" he whispered.

"Bruce, let it go," Dick pleaded. "You don't need to know any of this; it's all over and done with; just let it go!"

"You know I can't! You are my...son -- I was supposed to _protect_ you!"

"Bruce, you can't..._no_ parent can protect his child from everything! I dealt with it, and I moved on. You need to also."

"I...won't! After the Joker...It was bad enough that I took you out on the streets with me where you could be killed. Now I find out there were things going on I didn't even _know_ about!"

"I wasn't going to force you to choose between me and the Bat -- I figured I'd lose!" Dick yelled.

Bruce saw a startled, almost scared look appear in his son's eyes; then Dick hastily got up from the table and stood looking out his apartment window with his back to Bruce. Bruce left the table as well and went to stand behind the younger man. Dick ignored him.

"What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing. I didn't mean anything; I was just rambling. Don't worry about it."

"Dick." He hated using the "Voice" (as Dick had always jokingly referred to it), but if that's what it took ...

Dick still ignored him. Bruce lightly placed his hand on Dick's shoulder, feeling the tension in his son's muscles.

"Please, son. Tell me the truth."

Dick sighed. Still looking out the window he said very softly, "Okay, you want truth? Batman needed Bruce Wayne to be an irresponsible playboy. Now a playboy obviously needs women, but what kind of woman goes out with an airhead like Bruce Wayne? Batman deliberately selected women he knew wouldn't be hurt; but that was as close as he came to thinking of them as human beings -- they were pretty much interchangeable -- so he didn't really think of how they reacted to anyone else." He finally turned slightly to look at Bruce, and Bruce almost wished he hadn't. There was so much pain and acceptance mingled together in his boy's eyes.

Dick looked away again and continued, "Once I figured out the pattern, I realized that since it was Batman's decision, it was up to Robin to...deal with it. I avoided them when I could, tolerated them when I couldn't." He took a deep breath. "Because once I realized you didn't know what was going on, I knew that telling you would force you to choose between doing what was best for the Bat or best for me. And I'd be damned before I let myself do that." Dick finally turned away from the window and walked over to sit down on his couch. Bruce sat down in the chair across from him.

"Bruce, you're just going to have to accept that there are parts of my life you will never know about. That's just the way things have to be. I chose this life -- it's given me a purpose and a means to help people in ways nothing else could. While there is stuff in my past that I wish hadn't happened, all of it has worked to make me the man I am today."

Bruce tried to match the honesty Dick had shown. "But I still should've protected you better. I know I got so caught up in the fight sometimes that I would forget you were only a boy, partly because you were so good at what you did. Then something would happen to jolt me back -- the incident with your coach or Jennifer Hill -- and I would remember how young you were. I think part of my 'obliviousness' was because I was...scared."

"Scared?!? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Scared," Bruce said firmly. "I would realize you weren't a 'soldier' -- you were my _son_! Which meant I was your _father_, like it or not. _That_ scared the living daylights out of me! What on earth did I know about being a father? I had barely had one before he was taken from me; I didn't really know any, except for Jim. And here I was trying to get you killed!" He looked down in shame. "So, it was easier not to think about it at all."

Dick slouched down into the couch and looked at Bruce. Bruce could almost see the wheels turning in Dick's head. After several silent minutes, Dick sat up.

"Okay, Bruce, we're going to try something a little different. Are you ready?"

Bruce stared at him suspiciously and nodded.

"I forgive you," Dick said calmly.

"What? What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I forgive you. You have my full and free forgiveness -- all you have to do is take it."

"I still don't get it."

"Look, you said you trusted my judgment. Do you really?"

Bruce sensed this was the most important answer he had ever given. Did he trust Dick's judgment? Bruce remembered how he'd felt leaving Gotham, knowing Dick was protecting her as Batman in his absence. That calm of knowing he'd started to put to right something that he'd broken; the peace of knowing his city was taken care of. "Yes, Dick. I trust you, and I trust your judgment."

Dick smiled at him rather shyly. "Then trust me when I say that _I_ forgive _you_. Believe in that, and don't beat yourself up about 'what should've been.'" He walked over to the table, grabbed a cookie, and walked back over to stand in front of Bruce.

"It's like when someone who cares about you gives you a gift." He handed the cookie to Bruce, who took it and stared at it and Dick. "To refuse the gift would be wrong, wouldn't it?" Bruce raised one eyebrow, but nodded obediently. Dick continued, "Alfred baked these cookies for us as a gift; my forgiveness of you is a gift. Both are given from the same motivation, and both are given freely. To refuse them," he stopped and swallowed, "... to refuse them is to refuse _us_."

Bruce looked down at his cookie and nodded. He heard Dick walk back over to the couch and sit down.

"So, Bruce...how 'bout them Knights?"

Bruce's head shot up, and Dick snickered, presumably at the expression on his face. That surprised a snort of amusement from Bruce, which set Dick off even more. Before long, the two men were laughing almost uncontrollably -- they would try to stop, but one or the other would start snickering, and then they'd be off. 

They had finally gotten themselves under control when a voice chimed out from Dick's computer, "Y'know, guys, there are _lots_ of people who would pay _big_ money for a tape of the last few minutes of that! The Bat and Nightwing laughing like a bunch of hyenas. What's the joke, guys?"

Bruce didn't miss the way Dick's eyes lit up as he walked over to the monitor. "Hi, gorgeous! I guess you just had to be there."

"Hey, if you two boys are busy, I can call back later ..."

"No, it's okay, Barbara," Bruce said. "I needed to be going anyway."

The two men walked to the door. "Listen Dick, I'll...try to remember what you said."

"Thank Alfred for the cookies for me, would you?"

"Sure thing." Bruce turned to go, but then surprised both of them by pulling his son into a quick hug. It was over almost as soon as he did it, and then he quickly walked out the door. As the door closed, he could just hear Dick on the other side.

"Hey, sweetheart! You got any plans for dinner tonight? Maybe we can finish off those pizzas."

Bruce smiled to himself and walked down the corridor and out of the building. Time to go home.

  


***** The End *****

  


** End notes: In Part 7, Dick is actually quoting from Elizabeth Lowell's book _Jade Island_. It just seemed like something Roy would say. In Part 8, some of Babs' rant at Dick is courtesy of Chicago (when she read my first draft of part 7 **g**). Also, J.D. and Thelma are real people. Unfortunately, J.D. really does have emphysema. :-( I've fictionalized them somewhat, but they are a really sweet couple (and Thelma really does make the _best_ sugar cookies).

  


  



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